


Fantastic Pastry-Beasts and Where to Find Them

by Azaelia_Foxburr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-02 23:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8687986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaelia_Foxburr/pseuds/Azaelia_Foxburr
Summary: My self-indulgent way of bridging the gap between that heartbreaking scene in the rain and Jacob and Queenie's reunion at the end. Unrepentant fluff that adds absolutely nothing new to the fandom whoops.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I fell completely and utterly in love with Queenie and Jacob is such a sweetheart I just had to write about them ;;
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all the mistakes are mine and mine alone I'm afraid :')
> 
> (...I've already watched this movie twice in the cinemas like the trash I am ahaha)

He really can't say ~~~~where the visions come from. And they are _visions_ , not products of his own imagination as everyone else seems to think. Because Jacob Kowalski knows himself well enough not to flatter his intelligence; knows he'd never be able to make up those fantastical creatures in his dreams by himself, not in a million years. His brain wasn't made that way, and though he's always been prone to daydreaming his daydreams tend to be restricted to the territory of his next meal or a new pastry recipe, rather than any of the fantasy mumbo-jumbo that seems to be pervading his subconscious every night now. 

It starts the day he finds himself standing in the rain outside the City Hall subway station, his best brown suit soaked beyond repair and his memory of the past day as clouded as the stormy skies above. He'd written it off as being in a state of shock after the bank loan was rejected, and after a hot dinner and a mug of cocoa (he hadn't drunk it in years, but had gotten an inexplicable craving that night) he decides to call it an early night.

_...A flash of liquid amber eyes set in a solemn, wrinkled face..._

Jacob wakes up with a start and blinks owlishly, wondering if there was something in the mushroom soup he'd had for dinner. He turns over to his side, discomfited by the extraordinary vividness of his dream, and tries to settle back to sleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, he's had yet another vision-- _iridescent blue-green-purple feathers coating an unfathomably long serpentine body_ \--and the bizarre ape-like creature of his first dream is clearer in his mind's eye than before.

The vision-dreams just keep on coming after that, night after night after night. _The warm glow of a bulbous growth on what_ seems _like a rhinoceros...A sleek black body moving swiftly among glittering jewels and the jingle of falling coins... Golden brown feathers and a piercing gold eye and the smell of crackling ozone inexplicably mixed with the dry desert winds of Arizona--but he's never been to Arizona, never so much as stepped a foot past New Jersey..._

__By the time he stumbles, literally, upon the suitcase with the funny silver eggshells, Jacob knows exactly what he wants to sell in his bakery. (He spends his free time over the next few weeks visiting various vets and zoo keepers but none of them seem to be able to tell him what an Occamy is, and they all look at him like he's a bit funny in the head. To be fair, Jacob's starting to think that too.)

Sometimes Jacob is quite sure he's going mad, with all these fanciful visions in his head that he feels sure must have been planted there by something or some _one_. He tries to see a doctor about it, but the doc just tells him "You've simply got a bit of an overactive imagination, Mr Kowalski. Perfectly harmless. But if your dreams are keeping you up I can give you some pills for it." And Jacob hasn't got a clue how to explain himself without the good doc tying him up in a straight jacket and carting him off to the nearest asylum before he can say "Occamy". So he swallows the protests on the tip of his tongue, politely declines the pills, and leaves.

He doesn't mind the dreams, not really, because most of the time he wakes up from them with a happy, floating feeling he can only describe as joyful awe. But some of the visions are...frightening. There is one vision, an angrily writhing cloud of black dust, that chills him down to his very bones and causes him to wake up in cold sweat. He only sees that vision once, but it remains imprinted in the back of his mind like it's been burned by a poker.

The visions aren't all of strange animals either; occasionally there are people too. A freckled nose here, a wave of dark hair there, and once, most oddly, snippets of dialogue coloured by an unmistakeably _British_ accent. Sometimes Jacob wakes up with the memory of soft lips pressed against his own, and the sound of tinkling laughter still ringing in his ears. Try as hard as he might, he can only ever recall the lovely curl of a disarming smile and the bounce of blonde curls when he tries to remember the mystery woman who haunts his sleep. And even if he's not sure about the other visions, he's convinced this one is completely from his own desperate mind. After all, he's just short, tubby Jacob Kowalski who all the girls only ever saw as a "real friendly pal" and who's never been so much as kissed by a woman who isn't his relative.

Either way, there's nothing he can do about it, and for the most part he's content to transform his curious visions into pastries for his shop. And if his sales are anything to go by, his customers seem pretty content with this arrangement too. He gets used to the dreams and the constant niggling feeling that he's missing something important, like an itch he can't scratch beneath his skin. He becomes known as that nice little Mr. Kowalski with the kooky pastry-creatures, and supposes he ought to be grateful to these visions, in some way.              

"How _do_ you come up with these things, Mr Kowalski?" Mrs. Errington from the apartment block round the corner titters. Jacob, by now used to this question and the hundred variations he hears of it throughout the day, simply plasters on a smile and replies "They just appear in my head, ma'am." before twisting her paper bag of Niffler buns (his brain often supplies the names of the creatures as well) and sending her on her way.

The brass bell at the shop door rings and Jacob is about to holler his usual welcome when he sees her and feels struck dumb. A blonde in a pink coat stands in his bakery, scanning the shelves. She isn't quite conventionally beautiful, Jacob thinks; her jaw is a little too square, and some might argue her mouth is too wide-- _generous_ , his traitorous mind supplies--and her eyes are a somewhat red, as if she has been crying. But then she turns to him, and slowly breaks into a smile and _oh_. But he knows this smile, as familiar to him as his own face for how often he's seen it in his dreams.

Suddenly the side of his neck tingles and almost absent-mindedly he raises a hand to touch it, still staring at the woman in front of him. Her smile crinkles the corners of her eyes when she offers him a gloved hand and he automatically takes it.

And in that moment, feeling the solid realness of her hand beneath his own, Jacob Kowalski realises that all his vision-dreams must be true. Because if even she, the mystery woman he was so convinced could not be real, is standing as a living, breathing person right in front of him...Well then nothing was impossible, was it?

"Hello, Mr. Kowalski. My name is Queenie Goldstein."

 

**Author's Note:**

> #BRINGJACOBKOWALSKI'SMEMORYBACK2K16
> 
> #BRINGHIMANDQUEENIEBACKINTHENEXTMOVIETOO2K16


End file.
